


Battle

by grantaireslonelysoul



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Army AU, M/M, i cannot title at all, pining!grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grantaireslonelysoul/pseuds/grantaireslonelysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras goes off to war, leaving Grantaire behind in their home. When a knock comes at the door, everything changes for Grantaire…but when a phone call comes a year later, there's another shift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle

**Author's Note:**

> There is no "graphic" depiction of violence here, but there is some mention, so proceed with caution.  
> If war or anything of the like is triggering to you, don't read.
> 
> I don't really know why Enjolras is fighting for Iraq when they live in France, it was just in the au idea and I didn't want to change it.
> 
> My friend pointed out that it's highly unlikely that Enjolras would be working for the government but I just see it that he fights for what's right, no matter who sponsors it, so when he hears of injustice, he wants to fix it.

“Gran _taire_...” Enjolras murmured, kissing his boyfriend’s collarbone and sending shivers down his spine. Though Grantaire would never admit it, he often liked this better than sex; the afterglow, with naked cuddling and kisses and praise. He nuzzled into Enjolras’s neck, loving his boyfriend’s warmth and openness.

They didn’t stay there long, though, before Enjolras propped himself up on one elbow. Grantaire tried to lie against him, on his side, but the blond man shook his head. “No, don’t. I have something to tell you, and I want you facing me when I do.”

“Oh, God, here comes the breakup talk,” Grantaire groaned as he rolled over.

“Break up with you? After _that?_ I don’t think so,” Enjolras replied, kissing Grantaire’s curls, but his smile faded before long. “This _is_ serious, though.”

“I’m all ears, Apollo.”

“Well, about halfway through our senior year of college, I put my name down for the army, if they needed soldiers.” Enjolras took a deep breath. “And they do.”

“Oh, like when Feuilly went to boot camp?” Grantaire asked, trying to comprehend.

Enjolras touched his shoulder. “No, Grantaire. Like overseas. They want me in Iraq.”

Grantaire stopped breathing.

“ _What?!_ ”

“They want me in Iraq.” Enjolras repeated slowly. “Fighting.”

Grantaire couldn’t even find the words to respond. “Enjolras, I- _when? Why?_ I’m going to-don’t you know it’s _dangerous?!_ ”

Enjolras laughed sadly. “I leave in two weeks. I’m fighting for what’s right, because I want to be a part of changing the world, even with a risk. And as for us…” He kissed Grantaire’s forehead. “I know we’ll miss each other unbelievably, but we can write. Apparently, I can even call sometimes, too. And it’s not forever.” He looked directly into Grantaire’s eyes. “I promise you. I’m coming home.”

“Enj, I’m-I’m scared!”

Enjolras stopped. “Scared?”

“ _Yes!_ For you especially, but me-I mean, I can’t be without you like this! I love you so much, and you know you’re one of the reasons that I don’t drink as much anymore and what if you get killed and _God_ , Enj, I love you so much but I _cannot_ lose you.”

“Grantaire-“ Enjolras started, but then stopped. “Grantaire, I know you’re scared. I am, too. I…I don’t want to leave you behind. But making a change is really, really important to me”

“Important enough to die?” Grantaire persisted. He knew he was whining and he should stop, but this needed an answer.

Enjolras exhaled. “I don’t plan on dying. I told you-I’m coming home. But yes, if necessary, I would die for the cause. It’s that important to me.”

“Okay.” Grantaire sighed. He snuggled closer to his boyfriend. “It’s tough dating an actual Greek god. Attractive as hell, always fighting for freedom, never afraid…”

“You need to rethink that last one-I’m terrified.” Enjolras closed his eyes. “But I have to do this.”

“Regardless.” Grantaire told him. “I’d love to be half as brave as you. I’m not going, and I'm scared shitless.”

Enjolras smiled wanly, and Grantaire took the plunge and asked the other question on his mind. “So…when will you be back, do you think?”

“Within a year or two, I’d imagine,” Enjolras replied, arching his back. He must have seen the panic on Grantaire’s face, because he hastened to add on. “It sounds long, I know, but I’ll call ever week. Most people are gone a year, so that’s fifty-two phone calls. That doesn’t sound like much, does it?”

It did sound like a lot to Grantaire, but he bit his tongue in an attempt not to sound needy.

“We can even Skype.” Enjolras promised. “It’ll be like I’m just on a business trip.”

~

 _If this is any indication,_ Grantaire thought on the way to the airport, _this departure isn’t anything even close to a business trip._ Enjolras couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, and Grantaire couldn’t even sit still.

Upon reaching his gate, the two faced each other, not ready for what came next.

“Camo’s a good look for you, Apollo.” Grantaire teased shakily. He smiled, but it broke slightly at the edges.

In response, Enjolras threw his arms around Grantaire tightly, refusing to let go.

Grantaire rested his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, willing himself not to cry.

But they were both in tears before long.

“I’ll miss you so much…” Enjolras cried, burying his head in Grantaire’s curls.

Grantaire only made a small noise that was something between a moan and a sob and pressed his lips to Enjolras’s neck.

When they pulled away from each other, they made silent eye contact before sharing a slow, sad kiss.

“I love you,” Enjolras said, not looking away from his boyfriend.

“I love you,” Grantaire repeated, biting his lip and not taking his eyes off of Enjolras as he turned and walked away.

~

His absence was even harder than Grantaire had imagined.

The apartment was lonely. There were not any forehead kisses before bed, no shared breakfasts, and he wore all his own clothes.

If it hadn’t been for the first letter, Grantaire didn’t know what he would have done.

_Dear Grantaire,_

_I’ve only just gotten on the plane (the first plane, before my connecting flight), but I miss you already. It’s hard to believe that the next time I see you will be over a year from now._

_R, walking away from you was so hard. I felt like I was abandoning you, which I promised myself I would never do. I don’t know how I made myself keep going, but I knew turning around would be worse for both of us. I do have a duty, after all. This is what is right._

_But right now, I want my arms around you, and your kisses on my neck as I whisper how much I love you._

_And now I’m crying, and getting strange looks from everyone on the plane, but I don’t care because I miss my boyfriend, and that is certainly reason enough._

_All my love,_

_Enjolras_

The first phone call came after a week and a half. Grantaire leaped for the phone. “Hello?”

“Grantaire?” Enjolras sounded strange, but Grantaire recognized him right away. “R, you have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice.”

“You too,” Grantaire sighed happily. “How are you? How is it over there? What’s happening?”

Enjolras was silent for a moment before speaking. “I don’t want to talk about things here. Tell me about life at home.”

“Okay,” Grantaire readily changed the subject, thinking of things to say, but came up empty. “Actually, Apollo, I haven’t done much but sit around and miss you.”

Enjolras laughed, and the line faded slightly. “Oh, my Grantaire. Don’t stop your life for me, okay? Get up and do something.”

“I will,” Grantaire promised, though he wasn’t so sure.

“Good.” Enjolras sound satisfied. “I have to go now, though, okay? We have timed phone calls. My next letter should be there soon, though.”

“What about Skype?” Grantaire asked, remembering something his boyfriend had said before leaving.

Enjolras went quiet again, and for a moment, Grantaire was afraid they’d lost connection. “…Apollo?”

“I’m here,” his boyfriend replied quietly. “It’s just…I talked with some guys who’ve been here awhile…and they don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“What the fuck?!” Grantaire asked, feeling a creeping sense of dread.

Enjolras sighed. “You can’t freak out.”

“Tell me.”

“I’ve…” Another sigh. “I have some pretty nasty-looking injuries. And it’s common, I’m not in any real danger, but apparently, for families, it can be pretty…frightening.”

Now it was Grantaire’s turn to be silent.

“Grantaire-“

“I want you back here.”

“Grantaire, it’s fine. Lots of people look like this-“  
            “You’re not lots of people!”

“I am _fine._ ”

“I’ll be the judge of that!”

Then a pause. “Grantaire, I have to go. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Grantaire told him. “But, Apollo, I-“

_Click._

Fifty-one more phone calls.

~

And time passed. More letters were sent. More phone calls. Pining. Lots of pining.

One day, a call from Enjolras came, despite that his weekly call had come the previous day.

“Hello?”

“Grantaire.”

“Enj, what’s up? I thought-“

“Grantaire, I can’t talk long, but listen: I’m not going to be able to call or write for awhile, okay? I’m fine, there’s nothing for you to worry about, but I’m going to be out of touch for a couple weeks. We’re-oh, shit.” The line did something funny, and Grantaire panicked. “Apollo!”

To his relief, Enjolras returned “Sorry. I’m not allowed to tell you what we’re doing. But I’m fine, I’m safe, and I love you.”

“Apollo, what-?”

“Please, just say it back, Grantaire!”

Tears filled Grantaire’s eyes. “I love you,” he whispered, just before the line went dead.

~

He wasn’t supposed to worry, but he did. Day after day, week after week. What was going on?  
            When he saw on the news the amount of recently dead soldiers, he broke.

But the next night, when a knock came at the door, he was destroyed.

“Monsieur Grantaire?”

~

Grantaire was shattered.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, couldn’t do anything since he learned that Enjolras was presumed dead. That every soldier in the group had been shot, not including three that had been taken prisoner. And they probably had been killed by this point, too.

He’d asked if they could send the body back, but the man told him that even the bodies that had been recovered were past the point of recognition. Dog tags had been shot right through and ripped off. It was impossible to identify anyone.

The idea of Enjolras’s angelic face being mutilated that terribly made Grantaire rush to the toilet and vomit up his dinner.

When he returned, the man gave him a flag and apologized for his loss. The door shut and Grantaire crumbled.

Combeferre came over the next day. Grantaire didn’t know how he had known, but it was evident that he did. He walked in-Enjolras had given him a spare key-and took Grantaire in his arms.

“He-he _promised!_ ” sobbed Grantaire. “He _promised_ he would come home and he-he _lied!_ ”

Combeferre started crying at this, and Grantaire remembered with a jolt that Enjolras was his best friend.

“I shouldn’t have told him to sign up,” Combeferre said bitterly. “This is my fault.”

“No,” Grantaire shook his head. “It’s not. He would have gone anyway. He’s too stubborn. This isn’t anyone’s fault.”

“And yet, he’s dead,” Combeferre sighed.

Grantaire flinched. “Please don’t…I’m not ready to…”

In response, Combeferre held him tighter, and Grantaire began to sob harder. “Apollo…”

~

A week later, he moved out.

“I just can’t, Bossuet,” he told his friend as he packed his pillow and toothbrush. “I can’t be here without thinking of him and everything we were.”

Bossuet spoke slowly. “I understand, Grantaire. I will miss you, but I know why you’re going and I will respect it.”

~

New life was difficult. The town he moved to was a half hour away, but there were still people who knew him-and, even worse, knew about his relationship with Enjolras.

If he had room for any other emotion, he would have been pleased with the artwork this created. One drawing featured a tall faceless blond man with a sobbing brunet clinging to him. Another had a blond man drowning, but upon closer inspection, the ocean was made entirely of teardrops. But instead of selling them like his other paintings, Grantaire kept them. How was he supposed to let go?”

Of course, this artwork was only worked on when he was sober.

Which wasn’t very often.

He had been able to abstain from drinking while Enjolras was gone, as a promise. If Enjolras was risking his life for his country, the least Grantaire could do was stay sober. Anyway, it just made Enjolras upset when he drank.

Well, Enjolras couldn’t be upset anymore.

~

There were four empty bottles on the floor, and with a sip, Grantaire added a fifth. Was it enough to put him to sleep? Maybe he could forget all of this…

~

When he woke up, Grantaire groaned. Here came the hangover from hell. Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom. Might as well shower first. Rid himself of the smell.

Six months ago today, he had gotten the news of Enjolras’s death. He’d planned to start a new painting for it.

It was in the shower that he realized he didn’t remember what was printed on Enjolras’s favorite sweatshirt.

He called Combeferre in a panic.

“’Ferre!” he gasped, the tears already beginning. “What does Enjolras’s red sweatshirt say?”

“Grantaire, you haven’t called, or spoken to _anyone_ since-“

“What does it _say?!_ I forgot, ‘Ferre. I forgot!”

Combeferre instantly realized the reason for Grantaire’s panicking. “It says ‘Fuck the government, leave before they wake up, and don’t return their calls’”

Grantaire sighed with relief. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. But Grantaire?”

“Yeah?”

“I think it’d be best if you came home.”

Grantaire was silent for a minute. “Could I?”

“We’ve kept your apartment as a hangout, but we’d love you back.”

“I…I think I will.”

“Good.”

After hanging up, Grantaire sat down, still dripping in the towel he wrapped around his waist.

It hurt a lot to be reminded of Enjolras constantly, and the apartment was full of memories.

But forgetting him hurt even worse.

Grantaire took a deep breath and started packing.

~

A week later, he carried his last box into his old apartment, shutting the door behind him. But instead of unpacking, he rushed to the bedroom that he and Enjolras had once shared, opened a dresser drawer, and pulled out a red sweatshirt.

He was in tears before he even put it on, but they weren’t the empty tears he’d once cried. These were full, full of emotion, of love, of memories.

It wasn’t anywhere near ideal, but it was better.

~

Three months later, Grantaire was in the grocery store, trying to decide between Lucky Charms and Count Chocula.

As he reached toward the Lucky Charms, his phone rang. He checked the picture ID and saw a bespectacled smile. Combeferre.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Combeferre was breathless. “Where are you?”

“The grocery store…” Grantaire didn’t understand. “Why?”

Combeferre ignored the question. “You need to go to your apartment.”

“And again I ask: why?”

“Just _do it,_ Grantaire!”

Combeferre rarely raised his voice, and Grantaire decided to obey. “Alright, but just let me finish grocery shopping.”

“Hurry.” Combeferre told him before hanging up.

Instead, Grantaire took an average time with the rest of his shopping. Taking direction had never been his strong point, although, he reasoned, there would have been a time when he would have gone slowly on purpose, so this really wasn’t that bad.

When he got back to the apartment, his heart stopped.

There was someone on his couch.

“ _Enjolras,”_ he whispered, though even upon saying it he reminded himself it was impossible.

The man smiled. “It’s me.”

“ _Enjolras!_ ” Grantaire repeated softly, and dropped his groceries to run across the room. “You’re _here!_ ”

“I am,” Enjolras replied quietly, and Grantaire threw his arms around his boyfriend.

Enjolras instantly winced and let out a groan. “Don’t…”

Grantaire clapped a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry, oh, God, I’m sorry, Apollo, I didn’t know, can I make it better- _I’m sorry!_ ”

And all of a sudden, he was crying, sobbing senselessly and still clinging to his boyfriend, to _Enjolras,_ Enjolras who he thought was dead, but evidently wasn’t, Enjolras who had come back, who looked different but was somehow exactly the same, his boyfriend, his Apollo, his _Enjolras._

“Grantaire!” Enjolras sounded worried. “Grantaire, I’m not mad, just sore, love. I am _so_ happy to see you.”

“You’re…hurt.” Grantaire said, wiping his eyes.

Enjolras smiled tiredly. “As it turns out, that’s a side effect of war. I really am okay, though. Bruised and scarred, but okay. I just can’t…” He exhaled. “I’m fragile.”

“Of course,” Grantaire nodded, lightly running a finger along Enjolras’s sides. “Can I ask what happened?”

Enjolras sighed. “We had an attack plan. And it…didn’t go as planned. Most of our troops were killed. And I was taken prisoner.”

Grantaire sucked in his breath. “Enj, what did they _do_ to you?”

Another wince. ‘I’d rather not talk about it. It was…hell. But it’s over.”

“Of course. Of course, Apollo.” Grantaire exhaled. “I’m so glad you’re here, you’re alive…” He lightly kissed Enjolras. “Actually…may I?”

“What?” Enjolras looked up at him, confused. “If you mean sex…I don’t think I can, what with…”

“No, no.” Grantaire rushed. “No, that’s not…I just…can we cuddle? I want to hold you.”

Enjolras smiled. “That is just fine. I missed you, too. Just…be careful.”

“Of course,” Grantaire nodded. “I’ll be gentle.” He bit his lip. “May I suggest an underwear-only dress code?”

Enjolras inhaled. “I don’t…I mean…I’m pretty battered,” he confessed. “I would like to, but I don’t want you to get upset.”

“How can I be upset when the man I love is alive and next to me?” Grantaire asked softly. “Enjolras, I don’t want you hurt, but I’d much rather have you alive.”

Enjolras took a deep breath and nodded. “Can we go to the bedroom? I’m jet-lagged, and I’ll probably end up falling asleep.”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll just be a minute.” Grantaire told him, and Enjolras stood up. When the blond walked down the hall, Grantaire noticed a limp-a big one.

“What’s wrong with your leg, Apollo?” he asked when he walked back in. Enjolras was already under the covers, and Grantaire joined him in one swift motion.

“Just a limp. We tried to fix it, but it’s just going to be forever-the limb is dead.”

Grantaire furrowed his brow. “Come here,” he said, and Enjolras moved closer. “I love you,” he told his boyfriend, and kissed his hair. “You are so brave and so amazing, and I love you.”

Next, Grantaire kissed Enjolras’s face, right on the scar that marked his right cheek. He kissed Enjolras’s forehead, lips, and neck. He kissed his shoulder, where awful-looking bruises lay.

He kissed down Enjolras’s chest, pausing at something that was-no, it _could not be_ a stab wound.

Grantaire kissed Enjolras’s hands, marked with tiny cuts and his stomach, so much smaller than it should be. He kissed bruised hips and skinny thighs, and even Enjolras’s hurt leg, even though Enjolras protested that he couldn’t feel it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Grantaire told him. “I can.”

When he had finished, he kissed Enjolras’s lips again, and Enjolras kissed him back. “I’m so glad to be here,” he whispered, before cuddling into Grantaire’s arms and falling asleep.

After making sure his boyfriend was truly asleep, Grantaire sighed happily and whispered. “You have no idea.” 


End file.
